Eyes For You
by Violet'sQuill
Summary: A three-part 'One Shot' depicting encounters between Bellatrix and Voldemort (Tom Riddle). COMPLETE.


**Author's Note: **So, I'm not really sure where this came from as I have never wrote anything like this before. I'm a little hesitant about posting this and might even delete later but this is a three-part 'one shot' depicting Bellatrix's first interactions with Voldemort as he so recently is referred by.

Be warned though, this is not everyone's cup of tea and please note, that I do not encourage or condone relationships that are abusive.

Also, this story contains sexual implications and while those implications are not explicit enough for this story to be rated M, readers should be aware and should not proceed to read unless they have considered this warning.

And as a Disclaimer: This story is not for the distribution of sale. I make no money or profitable value from it whatsoever. It's in no way affiliated with or sponsored by JK Rowling, Warner Brother's studios, or any other respective affiliations. This content is free for enjoyment to fans and readers and should not be sold. I make no claim on any characters, places or names that are from or inspired by JK Rowling's Wizarding World.

* * *

**EYES FOR YOU**

Four,  
Four years of age;  
That's how old she had been…  
Just four,  
When she had first heard of his name and recognized it as one of importance.

Bellatrix was in her father's study, eavesdropping from around a corner, where she stood, concealed by the shadows of a large bookshelf. She was supposed to be taking a nap in her private quarters but she did not want to rest. Her mum told her that all ladies needed their beauty sleep but she already knew she was beautiful and saw the request for what it was; a lie and an excuse. Plenty of people had been overheard commenting on what a fine match she would make for their sons one day and plenty more had admired her long, black hair and the way it fell in ringlets around her bright-looking face. They would all stare into her large eyes and say what a beauty she was to behold and so she had known when her parents had sent her to her room and wished for her to take a nap that what they _really_ wished for was privacy and that with privacy, they would speak to each other about important matters.

Usually, the conversations Bella would overhear from her hidden nook were, quite frankly, boring and unappealing to her. Her mum often discussed gossip that had little to no substance but then, on occasion, there would be matters discussed worth knowing about and it was these occasions that kept Bella returning to the spot to hear more.

Today, had been one of those occasions, where she was glad to have been out of bed.

Her parents were speaking in hushed voices and she couldn't quite make out what they were saying at first. Bella's face scrunched up as she tried to strain her ears. She found it odd that they were whispering considering they were under the assumption that no one was around. _Did they fear the house elf listening?_ She wondered.

Then she heard a name; a singular name with no family one attached.

Voldemort.

Bella thought she had misheard at first. She had never heard the name before and she was well versed in all the names of importance. Her very own was a notable one; Black.

But she heard the name again… A man's name. There was a Lord Voldemort, as her parents called him, and he would be visiting them shortly.

Bella had never heard of a Lord before either. She knew there was a Minister of Magic and there were officials and men with high ranking positions but never had she heard of a Lord.

She knew at once that the man that they spoke of was very important. His very name bled importance. She played with the sound of it on her own tongue and it vibrated off her lips with power.

She liked power.

Suddenly, she realized why her parents whispered. They were submissive to him even in discussion of him and that, as far as she was concerned, was _admirable_ power.

"I'll go wake Bellatrix and get her ready," her mum said. "She'll need to be properly dressed and—," but Bella did not stick around to hear what else she would need to have done before Lord Voldemort arrived at her family manner. She ran up the staircase and dashed down long corridors, turned hastily around corners and burst into her chamber. By the time she got there, her hair was frazzled but she knew she could use that to her advantage. Her mum would think she had disturbed her curls in sleep.

A few minutes later, her mum found her tucked under her covers, and gently rubbed her shoulders, whispering, "Bella, Bella dear, you need to wake up. It's time to wake up."

Bella stirred and pretended to arose from a dream before rubbing her eyes.

"Bella, I need you to listen. We have a guest arriving shortly who is very salient and he wishes to meet with everyone in the household," her mum continued.

She let her mum dress her in her finest robes then and fix her hair so that she appeared elegant and well tended.

Then, she waited with her parents in the great hall for Lord Voldemort to arrive. Their house was clean and in order and was always prepared for guests but her mum fussed over the house elf's work nevertheless and her father sat in a chair with refined posture. Upon closer inspection, she could see that both of her parents were trembling slightly in their wake.

Lord Voldemort arrived minutes later with a few men at his side but there was no mistaking _which_ of the men was Lord Voldemort.

She felt his eyes on her almost the moment he had entered the room. He was assessing her with eyes that were slightly red in color. Her parents bowed and blushed but Bella _enjoyed_ his scrutiny that continued after she had bowed in his honor.

She found herself wanting to smile but she remained as impassive as he did and kept a calm demeanor as their eyes locked.

"I like your eyes," she said at last, breaking the silence. She had always been impulsive and couldn't help herself from letting the compliment fall out of her mouth. "They're my favorite color," she explained.

He smiled then, with amusement no doubt, and she returned the gesture.

* * *

Fourteen,  
Fourteen years of age;  
That's how old she had been the second time she saw him.

Bellatrix was now nearly a woman. Changes had occurred to her body. She surveyed herself in an elegant mirror that hung in her chamber. Her hips were now wider and her breasts had swelled to an impeccable size. Her waist was curved and flattened between those appealing features and her hair had grown in length as well as her legs.

Her skin was still fair and her eyes were still wide and she dressed those features with cosmetics that only enhanced her beauty.

If she had been said, in her younger age, to have been a worthy bride to any noble-blooded son, it was said with little emphasis compared to the way people would speak of her _now_.

Her chamber had also undergone severe changes. Her room now displayed evidence of someone who had taken a great deal of time in searching for news regarding Lord Voldemort. She delighted in any source material mentioning his name. The paper clippings scattered around her room had made her feel closer to him in the ten years since she had last seen him.

Bellatrix stepped away from the mirror to head downstairs to the ballroom then. A plethora of suitable young men would be there and she were to mingle with any young man presumed to be a smart match by her parents.

As she entered the room, she smiled wickedly. The black corset she wore had everyone watching her with hungry eyes.

Young men approached her with upturned palms throughout the night and she danced with them and entered into conversations with each of them.

They were all boring.

They could not match her interest in cruel conduct or compare with her crazed, unpredictable behavior but she enjoyed them as the study subjects that they were to her.

She had long since found an appeal in the way men's minds worked; how they figured, how they ticked, how they broke. She figured each of them tonight could have been broken easily and in three to five year's time, her father would have her married to one of these easily-broken men around her.

Only when she stopped to truly think about it, did she realize how much the thought pained her. She did not _want_ Avery, Nott or Lestrange. Her interest in them would forever be dim.

She wanted Lord Voldemort.

When the party was over and the visitors had left, she pulled on a cloak and went out into the night to find the very man she desired. She had heard rumors of where he resided and followed those whispers as she journeyed.

In the early hours of morning, Bellatrix came to a halt on the outskirts of a decrepit house. She could hear someone whispering and hissing from inside. She opened the wooden door, slowly, unwilling to let it swing on it's broken hinges lest it fall completely off.

It took a while for her eyes to adjust after she shut the door behind her. The room was settled in almost complete darkness; a great contrast as the sun outside had already begun rising.

When they did, she saw that the room appeared to have been devoid of any up-keeping in years. She didn't mind though... She was too entranced by him to really take note of walls that needed painting or appliances that could do with a fresh coat of stain.

Lord Voldemort was sitting, poised, upon a chair that was likely once opulent with half a dozen small snakes at his feet.

Bellatrix instantly got down on her knees before him.

"My Lord," she addressed him before tilting her chin back up so she could take in his beauty.

He wore the most immaculate robes of pure black that were tailored to fit his tall stature. The collar buttoned up to his throat and suited him perfectly. He had a regal air to him and looked ethereal with skin as white as milk and as smooth as porcelain. His black hair fell in waves atop of his skull and made her hair look dull in comparison. She found that his mouth appeared soft and that his lips contrasted in a compelling manner with his angular cheekbones.

Bellatrix wondered in awe how it was possible for anyone to look so stunning. Her breath had surely hitched and her heartbeat was now pounding beneath her chest within her rib cage. Her heart yearned for him with a desperation like no other. News articles and her memory had not done him justice, she thought. He was a living masterpiece.

Being so near to him, she could sense his power and magic generating around him in waves. She raised her big eyes to meet his for the second time in her life and she found that they were gleaming. They shined a more vibrant red than she had remembered. She wondered what he had to have gone through for the color of his eyes to look the way they did.

She noticed as well that his eyes were not only a deeper red, but that they were more cold than ever before, as if his eyes had the potential to kill the way a basilisk could. They carried a love for murderous deeds and carried a history of sin within...

Oh, how she wanted him to sin; sin _with_ her.

In the next moment, she thought he had been able to read those thoughts in her mind as amusement pulled at the corner of his lips and fitted his mouth into a slanted smile.

"We meet again," he whispered. Bella looked at him eagerly and with admiration. She loved his voice; loved the way he spoke. She wished he would say _more_.

There was no denying that she loved him as she watched his smile grow with pleased satisfaction.

"There will be no need to explain yourself this time, Bella. I have already taken the liberty of indulging into your mind… I see your experiences... Your father would like you to take upon the name of a wealthy suitor in your ever-nearing time of age... but I see that you do not wish this to be," Lord Voldemort said and her heart beat faster.

She didn't even mentally berate herself for having such desperate thoughts then. She liked the control he had over her.

"You have been beyond loyal," he continued. "You shall make a faithful follower one day… A Death Eater, as I call my supporters; branded with a mark of my own. That is the _only_ name I can possibly give you, Bellatrix."

"My Lord," she began, opening her mouth to explain her immense desire to take on _his_ name; as if doing so would change her Lord's mind.

"I do not have a family name to give you, young girl," he said then with a tone of finality and her heart broke.

The heart that didn't exist for others shattered like glass.

* * *

Nineteen,  
Nineteen years of age;  
That's how old she was when she took on more than one vow…

She had been lawfully wedded to Rodolophus Lestrange and she _hated_ him; pure loathing surged through her at the thought of him. He was a terrible match for her. Their marriage had no love, none at all; neither emotionally nor physically and she was _not_ going to allow him to participate in acts with her that would signify otherwise.

She remained a virgin and she allowed herself to participate in deeds of devotion to another man.

Lord Voldemort.

_He_ was her man; her only love and Lord.

Within the year, she had completed all tasks that her Lord had asked of her and done them well and done them happily.

For it, she would be granted the gift of his mark.

When she entered his estate that night to receive her gift, she had expected to find a room full of Death Eaters. What she walked into, however, was a room of semidarkness, brightened only by the glow of a fire. In front of the fire, stood her Lord, with his back turned to her. They were alone; a surprise to her but not an unwelcome one.

When he turned around, she addressed him with a full kneel. Her nose nearly touched the broken floor boards and she crawled to him, placing her lips gently to his feet when she reached his toes and pressed a kiss to them.

"You may rise, Bellatrix," he said then and she obeyed.

It was a great change to be the one ordered instead of the one that beat others into submission as she did with her husband. Her husband was weak. But her Lord was a powerful man who made her quiver in his presence. _He_ was was the kind of man who found humor in pain the way she did and was the only man she knew that was just as sadistic as her.

She looked into his eyes and found that his pupils were now slits. _Truly incredible_, she thought.

He looked down at her with those eyes until her gaze faltered and she took to looking around the room instead. It was quite empty; vacated looking. The only furniture near by was a lounging chair. She thought about how greatly she wished she could gift him a better chair but tonight, she reminded herself, _she_ would be receiving a prize.

"Are _you_, Bellatrix," he whispered, "_ready_ to take on the name of my devoted followers?" He inquired, releasing a breath of air that she wished she could capture.

"I am, my Lord. There could be no greater pleasure."

He gave her a cruel smile then.

"I believe… certain… arrangements could be made." He spoke, taunting her.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix asked. "What arrangements?"

"For pleasure…"

"I—I don't understand, my Lord. I was under the impression that I would be receiving thy most gracious gift; your mark, my Lord. I am ready."

"I do not doubt your devotion, Bellatrix. You are certainly ready to bare my sign. I merely meant to extend an offer… A symbolic demonstration of means. A task, that should you complete, I shall meet with an even greater reward…,"

Bellatrix began trembling in anticipation. He was about to reveal his reasons for summoning _only_ her tonight; the reason no others, as there always had been when one was inducted into his ranks, had arrived. She was about to discover _why_ she was to have a private ceremony. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been worried up until this point.

He began pacing in front of the fire then. Bellatrix licked her lips and her eyes watched him as he roved from one side of the room to the other. "I have grown tired," he began, "of watching the predictable reactions of those that serve me as I reward them with my mark… their screaming and their suffering as they wither in agony, along all other outward expressions of pain do not bring me gratification any longer. They bore me, Bella. They do not try to conceal the pain they are in as it is inflicted upon them… I wish to see someone try for some dignity as they take the pain in the name of my service. I wish for a less _predictable_ reaction. Therefore, Bella, should you refrain from screaming and instead, control your urges to buckle under the agony, I shall grant you another gift… I shall grant you an experience that I am sure your weak husband has not; an experience that shall grant you both pleasure and pain, Bella…"

Bellatrix swallowed then.

She was at a loss for words.

"Shall you accept these terms, young woman?"

"I—I shall… I do, my Lord. Most gratefully, I do."

He approached her then, moving effortlessly and with all the menace and self-assurance that first attracted her to him. Then, he gripped her left wrist with his left hand and pulled out his wand from his pocket with his right. He spoke an incantation that ripped the sleeve of her robes off and followed the words with a series of hisses as he pressed the tip of his wand into the flesh of her arm.

An unimaginable burning sensation erupted then within the veins of her arm and spread throughout her body. She had never felt so hot and the heat of the fire did nothing to subdue this effect. She looked up at his face and saw no outward expression of pleasure but she forced herself to remain still and silent as the burning became isolated. She had watched men and woman gasp and clutch for breath during their induction, she had been an ear witness to their blood curdling wails and knew how the sound would not cease for half an hour and she now understood why but she would not allow herself to so much as flinch before her Lord during such an honor, no matter _how_ much pain she felt. She would not let her limbs flail erratically or let her knees buckle or let herself collapse to the floor lest he asked her to.

Blood began seeping from the pores of her arm yet she still did not falter.

"Is red still your favorite color, Bella?" He asked.

She was afraid momentarily that if she parted her lips, a cry would escape but she swallowed and said, looking up at his face, in the most calm tone she could muster, "It is, my Lord."

She saw his pleasure then. His gratification revealed it's self on his face and under his belt in the shape of a pitched tent made out of his pants at the sight. It took every amount of focus, Bellatrix had to pull her eyes away and notice the dark mark that was now embedded into her flesh.

A moment later, he withdrew his wand and pointed it at her. He whispered the same incantation that had ripped her sleeve and the rest of her robes fell in pieces to the floor.

"No fair," she whined and he stripped himself of his own clothing.

It was now _her_ turn to feel pleasure.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They made my day. I feel so encouraged after your responses. I will think about continuing but in the mean time, I have changed the title to something more fitting.


End file.
